Kicking the mental habit proves hardest

Megan Schimpf Prescriptions

Go ahead, I dare you. Give up the one thing that you rely on most in times of stress, relaxation or normal life. Cold turkey. For the next six weeks.

Let me tell you this: It's very hard. Be forewarned.

Close to a month ago, I gave up drinking pop (or soda, whatever). I was becoming rather addicted and it was getting more than a little out of control, especially during exam week at the end of February. So fine, I decided. Being bigger than one's addiction is important.

Empowered by the ability to sleep and away from my usual haunts in Ann Arbor, the first week - spring break - was relatively easy. After a day of piercing headaches - I wasn't kidding when I said it was out of control - things improved greatly. I thought this would be easy, and that my addiction perhaps hadn't been so severe after all.

Ah, a false sense of security. Beware.

Then I discovered mental addiction. A much more brutal beast, trust me, regardless of what you've given up. The first couple days back, with that post-vacation aura, were still easy. Get a little more sleep, try some other things to drink. Variety is good. No problem.

But inevitably, that old lifestyle comes back with all the same places, events and stimuli, and it's harder than could ever be expected. Everything else is second best. It's still there, as alluring and inviting as always, except this time there's no giving in. Regardless of how long the day has been, what you're doing or where you are, with whomever, the answer is still the same. Your mind wants one thing while your voice says another.

The association between place and substance is purely mental. The desire to repeat a sensation is rooted in memory, reassurance and pleasure. But the determination not to give in is also mental. Thus, the paradox.

By telling yourself to give something up - even temporarily - you've created a battle between the person you want to be and the person you are. Being simultaneously the prisoner and the warden creates a whole new dilemma. The physical addiction, which comes and goes relatively quickly, is nothing compared to the mental desire to have just a little teeny, tiny bit, since this time it's really only for taste. How bad, really, would that be? This isn't heroin.

And while any person's addiction may seem ridiculous to others, no one is completely addiction-free. The process of coming down from that is just as difficult for everyone.

After a few weeks, I expected to reach a point when I didn't think about it every day, when I didn't look in the fridge and see that can taunting me, when I could honestly say I wanted something else instead. I had hoped this self-denial would make it easier to resist somewhat once I inevitably return to my addiction. I had wanted to cut my caffeine intake overall, and this was the best way to start.

Goals are nice, aren't they? Too bad this one's not coming true. I can tell already.

I can also tell you that it's only two and a half more weeks.

I was not so silly as to give up caffeine; that would be really hazardous. I was reluctant to develop any new, worse habits, so I stayed away from coffee.

Until last week, when I had exhausted every other possible method of staying awake: Juices. Lemonade. Ice water. Tea. More tea. I became surgically attached to my insulated mug and yet, somehow, it was still not enough. In five days, I had two double lattés with caramel shots.

This was officially the low point.

Coffee never tastes much better than bad hot chocolate; it's certainly not the same sensation. All the while, I was reassuring myself that in just about three weeks, life would be back to normal.

I never really understood the extent of my mental addiction until I started suffering its effects. It's been painful. At the same time, I discover this self-imposed detox was more necessary than I thought, I've come to value the will power keeping me from giving in. It's more than being competitive and loathing failure. It's about keeping a mental promise.

I look at my calendar, see that finals week is in the distance and know I will most certainly revert to my addicted ways. So why put myself through this torture? I've already decided the "become a better person" argument is way overrated.

I'm left with the mental battle and which will power will win.

That alone explains the difference between cheating when no one is looking and being able to know that I did it. A month from now what will remain is the personal accomplishment. For that reason, it's worth it.

Besides, I'm already planning the celebration. I know just what I'll have.

- Megan Schimpf can be reached over e-mail at mschimpf@umich.edu

03-26-98